Ruby Roo Reats Rarerock Roams
by jaka ray
Summary: SH22 - I've come to abhor summaries. but oh well here goes: (Rated for Spandex and some naughty potty language) Holmes and Lestrade go to California and Run into a pup named... Scooby scooby doo! sequel to drunken vampires
1. Free suits

Ruby Roo Reats Rare Rock Roams  
  
CALIFORNIA, USA Err. about the title: if you've watched the show you've probably raised an eyebrow or two at Scooby's (yes it's a Scooby Doo crossover.) problem with  
his R's. Translation: Scooby Doo meets Sherlock Holmes Sorry if I don't get some things right I'm no surfer and I don't watch the Scooby show too much anymore. And some of my friends are really as dumb as  
that admission boy.  
  
When Sherlock Holmes pulled out of the mind-blazingly fast wormhole with unusual smoothness, they almost collided into a group of young surfers. With a playful grins, they each gave the "hang loose" sign and walked off into a nearby, old fashioned café. The detective watched them with a look of reproach, but parked the car. Lestrade and Holmes climbed out and stared at the nearby beach dome filled with a huge wave pool and lots of sand. "Wow." In his decisive nature, Holmes walked up to the nearby admission stand and asked the boy working there, "I beg your pardon, young sir, but can you please inform me of the location of the nearest hovercraft rental?" He asked about the rental place because Holmes and his companion had decided that it would be the best place to start tracking down Moriarty and Fenwick. But the boy stared blankly at the detective with confusion on his freckly features.  
  
"Dude, your lingo is way weird - Ah, car rental, you said? Well the beach is right here if you're interested. Free suits, too!" He gave Lestrade the up-down look and winked at Holmes, who flushed. A look of disgust crossed Holmes' face as he glanced at the suit for men; so different from the ones of his time, although I'm sure he never went swimming for leisure. He tugged Lestrade aside, whispering, "Some teenagers here have nuts for brains. If he thinks I'm going to walk around half naked in that he is quite mistaken." Eyes scanning the beach side, they stopped with a gaze of curiosity and horror on a group of bikini-clad girls. Lestrade laughed at his amazement and said, "Don't worry, Holmes; California has a lot more than you think."  
  
The skeptical eyes kept moving until they caught sight of the café the kids had disappeared into. He put on his "thinker" face and held his head back, hand around his chin. Lestrade smiled and led the way into the diner. It was filled with things like old music blaring out of jukeboxes, and truck stop booths and service, too. Holmes wished for the first time he wasn't wearing his Inverness; it was so hot and his old style of dress was getting bewildered stares. But, ever ready for new trends, the teenage boys were soon swarming Holmes and asking questions about his outfit. The girls, on the other hand, upset at having lost their boyfriends for the moment, gathered around Lestrade, giving unwanted tips on how to improve her and such things. The two New Londoners, pushing out of each of their little crowds, seated themselves at a booth in the corner. But Californians don't give up so easily. They followed the two weirdoes to their seat and kindly gave ideas for what to order. Another youngster, also wearing strange and different clothing, finally disbanded them. But he seemed quite an authority among the surfers, who obeyed with a shrug. Holmes thanked the boy with a smile and a nod. He was a tall, broad shouldered boy with blonde hair and a collared shirt with bell-bottoms. The voice he spoke up in was mild and pleasant, "Hope I did you a favor, mister; some people like all the attention. Need help?"  
  
In a nearby booth, which he pointed out to the two strangers, were a group of his friends. The cluster of four (not counting the huge, brown Great Dane dog beside them) was certainly a peculiar one. The boy already mentioned, introducing himself as "Fred", was apparently the leader, since he took care of the introductions. Pointing at each in turn, he explained, "The other guy is Shaggy, the girl with glasses is Velma, the girl next to her is Daphne. Oh yea, and the dog is named Scooby Doo. He talks to you sometimes, if he likes you, that is." Fred grinned and the others waved with equally warm smiles. Shaggy was very tall and lanky, about the same build as Holmes himself, but with a foolish slack in his shoulders and a goofball grin. He had brownish, mussed hair, with a goatee to match, and also wore bell-bottoms. The dog and his apparent master Shaggy seemed to have bottomless appetites, since they wolfed down their meal in seconds and soon ordered more, which came almost immediately. Daphne, who sat besides Shaggy and Velma, didn't seem to notice his eating, continually glancing at Fred and checking her makeup. They were obviously "together", although Freddy wasn't as attentive to his girlfriend as she was to him. Daphne finally gave up with a stubborn snort and started picking at her food. Velma, the last one, wore think square glasses, but still squinted to see far off objects like Holmes and Lestrade. Still, she had a friendly smile and a smart, intelligent demeanor. All of them were dressed in a similar style to Fred who added sheepishly, "Um, sorry but we've kind of forgotten our last names. Nobody calls us anything else, anyway."  
  
Holmes nodded again. "And, pray tell, what is it that you do? Nobody seems to defy your, shall I say, authority. And, I might add, everybody seems to know who you are very well." Fred, who didn't seem at all confused by Holmes' "lingo", grinned again and sat down. He ordered an ice tea, and then sat thoughtfully for a while, as if contemplating whether or not he should tell them the truth. With a vacant stare and a far off voice, Fred told them, "Well, mister, I guess you could say we're in the detecting business!"  
  
At that remark, Holmes turned from being a bored inquirer to a man filled with an excited flame. "Really? How - What a coincidence! Well then, I guess you could say the same of us as well!" He pointed to himself, then Lestrade, who sat munching distractedly on crackers that were supposed to be eaten with soup (Our Beth Lestrade certainly has a careless disregard for the rules, no matter where she is.). By this time, the rest of Freddie's gang had pulled up chairs and joined their separated member. Velma, who was the last to squeeze herself into the booth, looked at Holmes with instant recognition. "Jinkies! You're Sherlock Holmes!"  
  
The detective flushed proudly at the girl's flattering astonishment. And yet, only Fred was affected by this discovery; the rest of the gang was confused and looked to their leader for an explanation. He nodded sagaciously, "I remember having heard something about a guy bringing you back to life. I never thought if was real, though! What brings you two to sunny Cali-for-ni-a?"  
  
Stealing one of Lestrade's crackers, Holmes smiled coolly, "Let it suffice to say that we're just doing our job. May I ask if you have any cases on hand? That is, anything eccentric and baffling?" He asked so earnestly and eagerly that he might as well have been rubbing his hands together with glee.  
  
Velma, who have been expecting the question from the start, quickly replied, "There are a few, Mr. H, and the most interesting one is one that takes place up in Craggy C -" But she was interrupted by a loud, intentional yawn from Shaggy and Scooby. The girl glared at them and crossed her arms with a huff. "All right wise guys, why don't you pick a case that would interest the greatest detective in the world?" Shaggy coughed, and his voice, which was still cracking, by the way, said innocently, "I thought you said WE were the greatest detectives in the world." Man and dog wore identical grins, and even Freddy had to cover his chuckle, as Velma turned scarlet.  
  
Daphne, who hadn't spoken until now, glared at the boys and snapped, "Oh come on, Shaggy! You know that Velma was being sarcastic when you two caught the wrong man in our last case! Besides, we shouldn't waste Mr. Holmes' precious time with our bickering." She batted her eyelashes with a sweet smile in Sherlock's direction. It was Lestrade's turn to cover a laugh and Holmes' turn to blush. Freddy covered it over quickly with, "Right, Daphne. I'm thinking Mr. H and Inspector Lestrade would like it if we took them along on our newest case up in Sotheby Hills." His friends all nodded their assent. So, after paying their bills, the Scooby gang, along with New London's best officers, headed to the Mystery Machine. 


	2. Squaw, Trojan, and Annie

When the Scooby Doo team of old passed away peacefully in old age, they left each of their brains to science. And yes, that includes Scooby's brain as well. With high tech 22nd century cloning, similar to the ones used to bring Holmes and Moriarty to life, geneticists were able to clone new members, requested by the citizens of the United States. Each state, whose government requested a set of the gang, was given one: at a price. "And," Fred added a bit too cheerfully, "If anything bad should happen to us, like if we were blown up or hacked to little pieces, the state of California just takes a vote and if they want a new batch, scientists just clone up a new one!"  
  
Even in the 22nd century, when they had been given newer gadgets, the members themselves hadn't changed much. Sure, they were each equipped with an ionizer, badge, and DNA scanner, but they were still the beloved Scooby characters of old. The Mystery Machine, on the other hand, had changed very drastically. The famous van of Scooby and his friends had to be remade for up to date chases of the criminals of a new century. Although it still had the same Mystery Machine colors and words, the vehicle itself was a hover coach larger and more spacious than Watson's. The inside included two rows of three seats: the driver and two passengers in front, and three more seats for Shaggy, Scooby, and snacks to keep them entertained. And in case of visitors or caught criminals, there were extra seats folded up in storage. The rest of the space in the van was empty except for various cabinets with camping equipment, emergency kits, and other gizmos and gadgets needed for the work of detectives. But Freddy was still getting used to the hovering vehicles of futuristic times. Even his takeoff was rough, and countless times Holmes thought they were done for. Velma and Daphne, who sat in front, constantly shrieked and scolded Fred for being "the most careless driver in the world."  
  
"I wouldn't worry about that title too much, my boy," Holmes said once. "Our Lestrade is also a winner of that precious award." The subject of his joke gave him such a warning glare that Holmes limited his conversation from then on. It was actually rather dull, since Lestrade refused to speak to him, and Freddy was busy driving - with Daphne and Velma busy remonstrating him. Oh, and did I mention that Shaggy and Scooby were pigging out? No? Well they were. Call me Ishmael, but I'm a bit surprised Holmes didn't die right then and there of boredom. Well, no he didn't because it was then that they got there. And I mean "there" as in, where they were going.  
  
The owner of one of the science laboratories up in the hills had begged the bunch of them to go check out a certain monster that was "haunting the lab". When she heard this, Lestrade burst out, "So you aren't really detectives! You're nothing but ghost busters!" And even though the gang turned scarlet and pretended not to hear her, she was still being a grump when they reached the building. The lab was high upon an otherwise deserted hill, with yellowed grass surrounding its front and a gray façade. With no windows, it looked like a jail of the old west, although even the US had adopted the cryptonic method of dealing with criminals. But it wasn't their smoothest day. Before the group even entered the building, a guard bearing obvious signs of Italian descent stopped them: dark hair, dark eyes, and dark face. But he spoke fluent English, with no trace of an accent. "Hold it right there!" he growled with dark authority. The surprise on Fred's face told of an unexpected obstacle. However, Holmes took over smoothly: glancing at the guard's ID badge, he spoke with lighter influence, "I beg you pardon, Mr. . Lucas, but did your boss tell you he was expecting visitors today? No? Dear me! And yet, here we are, so if you'll just tell him that we have arrived."  
  
Lucas raised a dark eyebrow and then narrowed it. "The bunch of you look like pest terminators to me; not detectives! So scram!" And he showed them the barrel of his ionizer; Lestrade was about to scream at him when a voice came from behind her. "Put down your gun, Mr. Lucas. This English gentleman is right; Lou was expecting visitors besides me. Well, move along! I don't have all day!" This came from a young man standing behind them, and after Holmes turned around he could tell that the man was an actor by his tinted sunglasses, worn by all celebrities who could afford the high-tech eyewear. As usual, the eyeglasses were promoting his latest movie; the storyline or something flashed along the bottom of the shades. He was about the same height as Holmes, average weight, a butt chin, well- defined cheekbones, and a small, dainty nose. His eyes were hidden behind the glasses but his jet black hair must've hidden them anyway when he wasn't wearing the shades, since the bangs were long and unkempt in a ragamuffin fashion.  
  
After the guard stepped aside reluctantly, the actor (who called himself Seth Pratt) led them up to meet Lou Nubbin, the aforementioned owner. This said owner was a chubby-cheeked man with a scowl plastered on his face and bright blonde hair with blue eyes. He leapt into business at once as soon as he told the gang of all his workers and their backgrounds. "I have arranged for you to scout out the laboratory at their lunch break; see if any of them sneak in and mess around. I've informed the guard already by my private P.A., so you won't expect any trouble from him this time." With that, Lou turned to accommodate his actor friend, who had been leaning listlessly against the nearby wall.  
  
Holmes thanked him and led the way. They walked down the nearby hall and spotted a group of three scientists. Remembering Lou's permission to question any of his employees, Holmes started to call out politely. "Excuse- " But before the Great Detective could finish, New Scotland Yard's cockiest Inspector interrupted him. "Allow me. Please. HEY YOU THREE!!" Holmes sighed but followed Lestrade. He was just in time to hear her demand forcefully, "Have you seen anything suspicious in these parts?"  
  
One of the scientists, another scowl-faced bearded man, growled in response, "Nothing besides that creepy monster." The other two glared at the first. There was an Asian girl with pale skin and a dark, wide-eyed African with twitchy features. Holmes asked them the same question, albeit politely, but they responded to the negative. Lestrade jumped in. "Where were you when your boss first spotted this monster?"  
  
The two nice ones spoke up in unison. "We were both with him." But the first, whose ID tag read Timothy Squaw, muttered coolly that he had been at home "sick." Lestrade took the bait and pounced, "Oh really. Can anyone confirm that?" Squaw didn't blink. "No, but I'm telling the truth." Then he added with fiery eyes, "And that should be good enough for any Yardie."  
  
"Oh c'mon Squaw: cooperate!" whined the Asian, and the nervous little African copied her in an even whinier voice. His fingers twitched even more and it seemed like he was covered in sweat. But Timothy just shrugged and walked off, leaving the other two dumbfounded. "Squaw! Come back! I don't think they're- done." With a sigh, the girl turned to the gang, "Sorry about him; he's a real stubborn ass at times. Sometimes I think. Well, that he's the monster." She blushed at her own big mouth but Holmes encouraged her kindly. "It's alright; we're detectives. You can tell us!" The African, an ironically named Arnold Trojan, nodded his assent.  
  
Annie continued with the support of two. "Well, about a week before the monster showed, I spotted Squaw talking with some guy in the alley. Normally I wouldn't have bothered to notice him, but the guy was wearing a dark hood and it attracted my attention. Plus, the man gave Squaw some money but I could tell Squaw was insisting for more because he was pushing the hand away and yelling at him with waves of his arms. The man left abruptly like some invisible hand pulled him away and Squaw stomped off as well. But they might've met again and . arranged a better price or something."  
  
Annie stopped and Arnold piped up, "And Annie told me about it and to test him we asked him what he was doing at the time. Of course, it was asked in a way so that he wouldn't suspect that we knew the real answer. But the man lied and told us in a mumble that he had ate lunch in the cafeteria."  
  
Beth Lestrade started down the hall Squaw had taken, but Holmes held her back, calling out over his shoulder, "Thank you ever so much! We'll be going now!" Daphne caught up to him and questioned sweetly, "Aren't you going after him, Sherlock?" Holmes replied crisply that they "didn't have enough evidence"; Annie's information meant nothing conclusive, although it was "interesting". Gees, Lestrade thought to herself; I'm starting to hate that word. 


	3. Time to split up, gang!

Author's note: *Wink* If you look up "erotic" in the dictionary, you'll find that it is way out of context.  
  
The group of them arrived in the main lab after some fumbling with directions. Freddie announced loudly, "Ok, gang: let's split up." He began directing the split when Daphne immediately took a place by Holmes' side. Luckily for Sherlock, Freddie went to his rescue. "Err, Inspector, why not let Velma and Daphne show you how we Americans find evidence? Mr. H can go with me." Lestrade made no reply, but lead the way to the other side of the lab while Scooby and Shaggy, anticipating their partnership, left to scour the next lab. Alone together, Fred turned to Holmes with a weak smile.  
  
"Well, Mr. H, I don't know how to explain this but-" the blonde boy was interrupted by Sherlock's laugh.  
  
"Yes, yes, I know, Fred: Daphne favors me. It's quite flattering, but I can assure you I don't return her feelings and that if you'd like me to speak with her I'd be glad to." Holmes raised an amused eyebrow, taking care not to laugh.  
  
But it was Fred's turn to laugh, "For once, Mr. H, you're real wrong. Daphne's my girlfriend, but our dating has been really stale after she thought she saw me giving a barmaid my number." He trailed off, as if remembering the scene with a wince. The Great Detective, who was no sucker for girls but who knew the rules of being a gentleman, was aghast, "Lord! Did you really?"  
  
The young boy blushed, "NO! She was a fan! I was just giving her an autograph!" He cleared his throat after his sudden outburst and continued in a calmer, more amiable manner, "Anyway, don't mind her sucking-up; she's just trying to get to me." Fred seemed hardly embarrassed like he should've been, because he said with a grin that made Holmes blush, "And, Mr. Sherlock, I won't mind if you decide to play along!"  
  
***************************************  
  
Shaggy and Scooby never really look for clues when Fred tells them to split up. They just sort of wander around looking serious. But they're really looking for the kitchen, which they usually find pretty well. It's too bad they don't employ their noses in actual detective work, but of course, you already knew that. And if you're really smart and a big Scooby Doo fan, you'd know that the two are always the first poor fools to become mutually acquainted with the monster. Now, Shaggy and Scooby were beginning to put their noses to work, when a loud moaning was heard. Shaggy looked down at his stomach, then over at his dog's. "Like, w-w-w-what was that?"  
  
"I run roe." (I don't know)  
  
The skinny vegetarian might've looked as daft as ever, but clones are often times smarter than their original hosts.  
  
"Scoob, have you often noticed that we're always the first poor fools to become mutually acquainted with the monster?" (Ok, maybe that's pushing my luck. Let's cut to the chase, shall we?)  
  
*****  
  
Lestrade was clueless as to where to start, but her stubbornness wasn't about to let it show. "So, where do we start?" She asked nonchalantly. Daphne shrugged with a toss of her hair and flounced after Velma. Beth Lestrade snickered; maybe Daphne really did like Holmes. And she would see the Inspector as competition. Shaking her head at the thought, Lestrade peered over Velma's shoulder: the teenager was examining equipment that had been stolen or tampered with, according to the manager. A yawn escaped the Inspector's lips; it was probably dark outside. There were no windows in the room, and Lestrade held a light in her hand so that she could see.  
  
"I don't see anything wrong with it." Velma announced, pushing her glasses higher. Velma wouldn't be Velma without those glasses she always seems to lose at the worst second.  
  
"Me neither." Daphne sighed, prodding tentatively at the wires. Lestrade, to her own disappointment, could also see nothing wrong with the equipment, and strode quickly to the other side of the room. In doing so, she almost broke her nose against Shaggy face. But that didn't stop the man, who shrieked and dashed away, his pup close on his heels. Rubbing hard, the inspector check to see if her nose was bleeding as Velma raised her head. Even Daphne looked curious. Lestrade cursed as she pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the flow of blood that had already stained the floor. However, she soon found she had more to worry about. Unplugging her nostrils for the moment, Lestrade caught a whiff of stink.  
  
"PEW! What is THAT?" A question asked too soon, since the monster stood inches away from her. It was a horrible thing, its skin burned away as if by acid, and the face and hands gnarled and disfigured. Spongy red flesh appeared at its cheeks, and Beth wondered sickly whether that white stuff was bone. Although it was eyeless and mangy, its mouth was fixed in a dopey smile, moans escaping ever so often. Thudding past the bewildered inspector, it reached for the equipment on the lab table, clutching the glass in its arms as if it had all the time in the world.  
  
Daphne and Velma screamed like they never screamed before. For the first time, the beast's head noticed people in the room, but before they could be eliminated, Lestrade regained her Yardie self and cried, "FREEZE! Inspector Lestrade, New Scotland Yard!" An ionizer blast was heard, and Lestrade rolled away from what had been her own shot. It had some kind of. ionizer shield or something, she thought bitterly, shoving the two teenage girls towards the next room. It'd be worth the bluff, though. "Stay back! Drop those . glass... thingies.!" So much for her salvaged pride.  
  
*****************  
  
Working together, Sherlock Holmes and Freddy gathered anything of significance in the lab. But still, after ten minutes, there was nothing that even suggested a sabotage or stolen items. It didn't fit. There was no proof of the existence of that "monster" either. "Do you think Lou was lying?" Fred read Holmes' mind as they gave up and sat pondering.  
  
Sherlock sighed. "There's no evidence of that, yet. But it's probable." He added, admitting that he was a bit befuddled himself. Then, something else in the course of that day's events clicked. He jumped up with an exclamation, recalling to Freddie's mind the conversation earlier with the three scientists.  
  
"You must've noticed the conspicuous attitudes of all three scientists. The first one was uncooperative, the second was trying to act as peacekeeper, and the third was nervous. But before we could finish questioning the first man, he left, saying 'and that should be enough for any Yardie'. But how did he know Lestrade was a 'Yardie'?" Freddie slapped his knee, shouting at the conclusive evidence against Timothy Squaw.  
  
"You've got it, Mr. Holmes! You've definitely got it! Squaw's our man!"  
  
A proud smirk crossed the detective's features. Continuing on in the manner of a superior officer coaching his apprentice, he went on coolly, "Now, now, slow down, my boy. We've still got some work to - Halloa! What the devil!" To his ultimate surprise, Holmes saw, first Velma, then Daphne, and finally Lestrade, run like heck out of the next room.  
  
"What's going on?" Freddie demanded. But the two teenage girls didn't stop; they slid to a pause, flicking their heads back like a deer from a huntsman, and then ran on. Only Lestrade appeared sane.  
  
"That thing's got an anti-ionizer shield!" She gritted her teeth and turned to Holmes. His cane was already at his side with a flick of his deft wrist. The thing appeared at the door, its arms still at its sides but the smile gone, and a menacing sneer was in its place. Before she could blink, Lestrade saw the cane spinning through the air. But the Thing had another surprise in store. Without even a twitch it sent the cane flying back at Holmes. Luckily, being the great detective that he was, Holmes had deduced something of the sort and was able to move out of the way, pulling Freddie and Lestrade behind him. They ducked under a nearby table and waited. The monster, which wasn't a very bright sort of chum like all the other monsters in Fred's career, squinted around the room, not bothering to look UNDERNEATH the tables.  
  
Lestrade snorted grumpily, the thing's feet having appeared next to her. Suddenly she froze; although without a good brain between its ears, the monster certainly enough had a keen sense of hearing. Bending over to examine the source of the erotic snort, it was very pleased to find the three quarries. But Holmes was quick, already moving to stand, lifting the table up with him. The monster was kicked aside with an "Oof" and landed onto a nearby table, sending it to the ground with a crash.  
  
"That was easy." Fred realized out loud as he and the girls gathered at a safe distance away from the collapsed fiend. The glass test tubes on the table had cut its façade to shreds, but it wasn't enough to uncover the naughty culprit. Daphne, wanting to impress her boyfriend with some courage, reached for the mask with a bold hand.  
  
"No! Stay back!" But the warning came too late. The monster's eyes flew open suddenly, and with a mighty leap it dragged Daphne aside, the dull end of an exact-o blade to her throat.  
  
"Don't make me hurt her!" It screamed with sudden ferocity of character. Daphne was scared out of her wits. Her mouth opened in shock and speechlessness, but she closed it again without a word, understanding her position as prisoner. She wanted to cried out, fear creeping through her fingers, which were trying to wrench the strong arms from around her neck.  
  
Fred was pulling out his hair. He pleaded with the ogre not to hurt Daphne. The monster's scarred face showed no signs of mercy as he growled, "Two hours! Don't come after me or she dies!" Then, he viciously threw the blade at the group, using the time to get away. There was a final scream, and then all was silence and darkness.  
  
******************************* 


	4. Breathe in, breathe out

YAY! I got my own.. er.. black ball of fluff! * see myshawolf's chap. 13 of  
masquerade for details*  
JR: not only do I have my very own tickle me nightmare, but I've decided to  
take a bite out of Mysha's ficcys! Well, at least until I can figure out  
something to do. No, I'm not dead. I'm very much alive. I was just busy.  
Sorry it took so long, but at least I updated TWO fics at a time, right?  
Right. On with the motley!  
PS my Tickle me nightmare blob has taken on the shape of Arnold  
scwarsenegger. gee, where did that come from.  
Ahnold: I'll be bahk. Hey cahlifohnians- I'm yor new gubinator. Yor  
clothes - gib dem to me.  
JR: -_-;;  
**********************************  
Holmes jumped up and grabbed Fred's collar. "Don't go after her," he  
hissed, "And I promise the man's word will not be broken. He is but a pawn  
in a cunning scheme." Lestrade raised her eyebrows, asking how it was  
certain that the antagonist was a male. Sherlock shrugged. "Surely, even  
in the heat of the battle, you noticed the creatures extraordinary height,  
which he tried to conceal. It was in vain of course, to my eyes and ears."  
  
Lestrade groaned. "Of course! I should have seen it! But then that means  
that - "  
"What'd we miss?" The man and his dog took that moment to walk into the  
mist of things. "Where have you two BEEN!" Velma shouted with her arms in  
the air. Scooby burped and Shaggy grinned. "Like, did you have ask?"  
Velma rolled her eyes and brought both rascals up to date. Scooby  
whimpered when he fount out Daphne was gone.  
"Roe roar ruby rags." ("No more Scooby Snacks.") Shag snickered at his  
pup's ill timing, but became more serious when he saw Freddy's gaunt face.  
He coughed, nudging his fellow guy in the foot. But it was no use. Fred's  
bottom lip pouted out in a frown, and he was silent as ever. Shaggy turned  
to the others with a sigh and a shrug.  
Holmes' face was just as serious. "We have no time to lose. We need a  
plan." His eyes flickered past Fred, who was busy bemoaning himself, and  
rested on Velma. "Me?" She piped. Holmes nodded, and Lestrade followed  
his lead, prompting the girl helpfully, and "Looks like we're going to have  
to stick with the four S's, like Scooby said." Right on cue, the dog  
recited: Suspects, split up, scramble, secure. Meet the suspects, split  
up, scramble from the monster, and secure (trap) the monster. Then, last  
but not least, unmask the villain!  
**********************************  
"OK, next plan. Scooby, do you think you could sniff Daphne out?" An hour  
had already passed, spent in fruitless pursuit of a place to set a good  
trap. Holmes was skeptical of the stability of the plan, and wasn't so  
sure of the girl's next plan either. But he had followed with a thoughtful  
expression on his face, his cane at the ready. Big surprise: it hadn't  
worked. Without Fred to plan it all like he usually did, the arrangement  
was a fluke. And now Velma was about to show she had more up her sleeve.  
Lestrade almost groaned out loud.  
"Rye run roe." ("I don't know" - he says that a lot, doesn't he?)  
Holmes twitched. "Um, yes well, TRY." Scooby's tongue lolled out and he  
nodded with a yip. Pressing his huge black nose to the ground, the doggy  
began to sniff out the beast's scent, which would've been hard to miss. It  
wasn't a stinky smell like skunk or sweat: it was a strange, refreshing  
sort of smell.  
"He's actually smelling!" The remaining teenage girl ran after Scooby the  
Great Dane as Lestrade tried not to feel worried at Velma's excited tone of  
voice. Sherlock restrained himself from slapping his forehead with a  
groan. It wouldn't have been very polite.  
***********************************  
Beth Lestrade had never laughed so hard in her life. It didn't matter that  
Holmes was trying to shut her up frantically and reassuring Scooby, who had  
his tail between his hind legs in depression, it was ok and that everybody  
makes mistakes. "Why, if it was me I your - er, shoes? -" Sherlock tried  
to cheer the poor pup up, "I probably would've made the same error! It just  
goes to show that we are dealing with a sharp, prepared criminal!"  
Scooby had led the group into a janitor's closet full of air freshener  
bottles.  
Her breath having caught in her throat and almost suffocating her, Lestrade  
stopped laughing and sank to her knees weakly. Velma and Shaggy were  
trying to comfort Scooby as well, but Freddy was looking around in wonder.  
He seemed to have regained his wits, because he spoke up next. "I guess  
you're right, Mr. Holmes: the perpetrator must've disguised his scent with  
air freshener. That means that he knew we were coming and that sooner or  
later Scooby would try to sniff him out."  
Shaggy looked confused. "So our bad guy is the janitor?" Lestrade looked  
like she was about to pop again, but Holmes was smart enough to keep his  
hand tightly over her mouth. Of course, that didn't stop her body from  
shaking with laughter as she shook her head violently. She knew who it  
was; at least, she thought she did. Holmes hadn't taken the time to  
confirm her suspicions. He was too busy a) keeping his hand over her mouth  
and at the same time making sure he didn't suffocate her; b) trying to calm  
the gang down; and c) trying to think up what they were to do next. Oh  
well, that was his problem. Meanwhile, Beth Lestrade couldn't help  
laughing out loud again.  
************************************  
Author's note: well I'm not sure how to use my newly obtained ball of  
fluff, but I've lost my notes on the next chapter, which was as good as  
done until I lost my notes. Cross your fingers and hope I find it.  
Meanwhile, read and review, mis amis! 


	5. Oh God, not spandex

[Author's note: In case you're wondering, I never found my notes so I'm trying to wing it as far as I can. I can't even remember what was on that piece of paper, so I don't know how bad it is yet...

Being not only a hopeless romantic but also a big Monty Python fan, I'm naming my little shadow demon "monty". * Pat monty on head * And Romeo's first name was Montague… ;) 

j.r.: Heh heh. You want to say it, monty? 

M:  On with the monty.

j.r.: motley 

M:  same difference… :P 

j.r.: not really 

m: oh hush 

In other news, monty (previously nicknamed tickle me nightmare) is trying to memorize the manual himself because I told him I had homework to do. *Pat monty on "head"* well not really homework I guess but … ficcys are good, rite? : D

Actually he just looks like a ball of fluff when he isn't shadowed. Right now he's shadowed into Einstein. Go figure; nightmare, that book would make war and peace look like a "dick and Jane" book!!]

--------------------------

Sherlock Holmes massaged his temples: what a day! But he kept his energetic face on as he examined the janitor's room they stood in.  It was normal enough: shelves full of air freshener bottles and other cleaning supplies filled up the wall to his right; to his left were the maintenance robots; and directly behind him loomed the main control system for all the cleaning machines.  And the door was straight ahead, a large vent right above it…

"Of course!" Holmes cried out, rushing under the vent and trying the reach it, stretching his long thin arms up as high as possible.  The vent, which looked big enough for him and maybe the Inspector (if she every stopped laughing) to crawl through on all fours, was still too far away.  Groaning as he scrunched his body back up again, Holmes turned to Lestrade, who had miraculously shut up but did not appear to be ashamed of her outburst.  Her auburn eyes had followed Holmes' movements curiously, and, registering comprehension, she bid the gang of recreated teenagers to listen up.

The great detective had to grin; it was nice having Lestrade as a "partner" after all…  He cleared his throat and held his hand out for Scooby to sniff, and motioned for his colleague to do the same.  Once Scooby was sure to have their scent in his mind, however dim it might've been, Holmes nodded and indicated the air vents.  

"The Inspector and I will crawl through the vents and try to see if we can locate the room in which Daphne is being held.  I know it sounds old fashioned," he grinned again at Lestrade's crestfallen face, "but I must remind you that this is California, the land of Hollywood and cliché movies…  When in Rome, do as the Romans-" Sure enough, he was interrupted by Beth's scowl and reluctant voice, which finished his sentence slowly and in a monotone tone [no pun intended].  

Fred, who seemed to have brightened considerably, took control immediately.  "You're the man, Mr. Holmes!  I'll… err... bring you a chair?"  He strode out the room, Velma and Scooby following, but Shaggy trailed behind and only dashed out after giving Holmes and Lestrade a wink.  Both chose to pretend they hadn't seen the lecherous wink in case the other had.  

"So where do we start?" Lestrade always plunged straight into battle; why stop now? Looking around for something to stand on, Lestrade grabbed the tallest shelf of air fresheners she could reach and hoisted herself onto it.  Holmes watched in amusement as she climbed up each shelf like a ladder until she got to the tallest one.  Next she stretched her arm out toward the vent.  Her fingertips were only an inch away from it.  Pivoting her toes little by little, she was able to move closer in the direction of the door.  But then the shelf collapsed.

With a yell she landed on her rump, rolling away just in time to keep the shelf from squashing her.  As she stood, evidently disgusted, Sherlock spoke up teasingly, "Elementary Psychics, my dear Lestrade.  I do believe you went to school, did you not?"  His silver eyes shone apologetically the next instant so she decided not to make them black and blue.  But she did cross her arms and challenge him to think of something great. And he did so, of course, very quickly.  Not that it was great in her favor, though.

--------------------------

          Scooby's stomach rumbled loudly as the whole gang stood outside the door waiting for Holmes' signal: three metallic pangs which were supposed to come from somewhere above their heads.  They didn't want to get in the way of "whatever was going on in their" Shaggy mentioned casually, especially if it was important detective work that they couldn't possibly follow.  But, since they were still detectives in some way and still held on to a shred of pride, Fred and Velma went over the clues, bouncing theories off each other while Shaggy and Scooby simply daydreamed of other things like food. 

"I think Squaw did it; you remember how he knew the Inspector was from Scotland Yard without us or his boss telling him?" Fred protested.

"Yes, but we should still keep an open mind.  Remember when you used to think Red Herring was behind every little mystery?  You had proof most of the time, but sometimes it still turned out to be somebody else!"  Velma pointed out innocently, making her friend turn Red.

"Well this time it couldn't BE anyone else!" He defended arrogantly.

"There are a lot of suspects whether we like it or not.  Even Mr. Lou can't be ruled out!  Insurance gives a lot these days!  There's Mr. Lucas, the guard who stopped us: his boss told him about us coming (a fact I verified when we were talking to Mr. Lou), but he still refused to let us in.  Arnold Trojan, another scientist, was really nervous during our talk, and the Asian, however eager she was to cooperate, can't be ruled out either."

"You've forgotten Seth Pratt." Fred taunted smugly. "Just because he's a 'cutie' doesn't mean he isn't a criminal."  Velma looked hurt. She muttered something about having gotten his autograph but then trailed off.  Lucky for her she was saved from further embarrassment by the three sharp clangs that sounded from inside the room…

--------------------------

          "I do hope you didn't step in dog poo today, Inspector."

"Oh I don't know, Holmes; Scooby eats a lot for one pup."

It was a comedic sight to see Sherlock Holmes standing nonchalantly but with his arms grasped firmly around Beth Lestrade's calves.  She was standing on his shoulders, wavering slightly and unsteadily, and together they measured at least 11 feet.  But it was no use; she needed to be just a little higher…  Conveying her thoughts to the person below her, she felt Holmes' arms shoot up and found herself in a sitting position, perched atop a Victorian gentleman's palms.

Restraining herself from issuing another vicious snarl, Lestrade reached up.  Her hand touched the vent easily.  _So it did work…_ She thought privately, and she proceeded to unscrew the fastenings of the metal window, trying not to be distracting by the fact that her uniform was made of Spandex.   

"If I catch you looking up, Sherlock Holmes, I will personally make sure you won't live to see New London again."

--------------------------

[So read and review! Flames welcome since I have my own Nightmare now… * cough * HMM that movie "Texas Chain Saw Massacre" could be remade if something else like that happened… * cough * 

monty: * sneers and turns to cowering readers (yea right) * she's only joking – she wouldn't be able to hurt a fly if she tried…

j.r. * Grins evilly *: Oh but you would… if you were a flyswatter… * gets ideas * pwahaha.]


	6. Up the Vent and On the Scent

[Author's note: 

Jaka ray steps out humming linkin park and Simon & garfunkel songs:

Ok, first of all, the new Simon & garfunkel tour is the bomb, and I got to see it on Art's birthday (November 5th), which was really special!  I had the time of my life!

Sorry about the slow updates…]

***********

Sherlock Holmes [do I really start every chapter with "Sherlock Holmes"?  Well, just goes to show how loved he is… ;)] shifted his weight hesitantly.  He was careful not to drop the Inspector, even if she made no effort to catch the screws that she removed.  Luckily they were far from hitting him, but it was unnerving because if he moved too much he would slip immediately on the circular bolts.  Yes, he thought to himself, it was the wrong day to wear those slippery brown loafer shoes.  

Finally he heard a creak and knew Lestrade had gotten the shaft open.  What a relief!  Slowly but surely she lifted off of his palms and pulled herself into the vent.  With a few shuffles and scuffles and groans, Beth was able to squeeze in.

"I told you not to eat those cream puffs, Inspector!" Holmes called out from below, fully aware that she could do nothing to hurt him from her position.  However, Lestrade quickly sent her spare screwdriver rolling toward the open vent and it hit the man smack on the forehead.  Rubbing the mark, which he felt was bruising already, Holmes jeered, "Well ex-cuuuse me, Britney Spears…" A horrified squeak and tugging of Spandex uniform told the detective that his jest had hit its mark.  Smirking gleefully, Sherlock crossed his arms and waited for her to help him up.  Instead, however, the female was still.  I do hope she isn't stuck, he thought privately.  What an inconvenience that would be!

"Uh, Holmes?" Lestrade's voice was tentative and muffled.  "I'm facing the wrong direction: my head is facing away from the hole…" Breathing a sigh of relief but muttering to himself, the detective instructed her slowly to back up over the gape.  

"Ohhh…" Lestrade cursed her own stupidity, growling to nobody in particular, "No shit, Sherlock."  

"Ahem."

"Oops.  Sorry Holmes.  Oof."  

"You should've done those sit-ups like I asked you to, too, Inspector."

"Shut it, Sherlock."

***********

Outside, the gang was about to start following Holmes and Lestrade's scent from the ventilation system when Scooby started to growl.  And I don't mean his stomach: I mean a rumbling growl from deep within the throat that signaled the dog's unhappiness.  Turning to see what the fuss was about, every member tried to look casual when they saw Timothy Squaw approaching.  Shaggy smiled weakly and waved, but the man's eyebrows narrowed and the boy noticed his teeth were pointed as he said, "Well look-y here!  If it ain't the Ghostbusters from the beaches of hell!  Where's the crappie chappie from across the pond?" [As in, across the Atlantic Ocean] 

Even while the rest of his friends cowered, Freddy took the bull by the horns and stepped forward pompously.  Which isn't always the smartest thing to do.  "How'd you know Mr. Holmes was from New London?  And how'd you know the Inspector was from Scotland Yard?  Is it because you're the one behind all this?  Huh?"

For a moment, surprise seemed to flicker in Squaw's eyes, but in the next moment they were hard again.  In a mockingly British drawl he exulted slyly, "Eyes and brains, you little hippie.  Isn't that what your ol' detective used to say?"  He stopped a minute to give a cruel smile.  "And as for the broad, I could read that ID tag from a mile away."  Fred's hands were clenched as tightly as his jaw, so Shaggy stepped into his place.  

"Don't you have some crimes to commit?"  The man looked like he was about to tear Shaggy apart with his blazing eyes alone, but Velma placed herself between the two, shooing Squaw away with a silent glare.  Then she turned on Shaggy.

"You know better than to put yourself in danger like that!" She snapped angrily.  Shaggy looked confused; hadn't he just stood up for their leader?  And now the brain of the gang was mad at him?  At least food doesn't talk back to you, a voice in his head said.  This time, however, it was Fred who broke it up, again reprimanding both sides of the battle for their immaturity but still being fair.  He made the two of them shake hands good-naturedly, but of course, when he and Velma turned their backs, Shaggy stuck out his tongue at both of them.

***********

Trying to figure out how to get her companion up the eleven feet that separated them, Beth Lestrade could find no other way but to hang upside down from the vent as far as she could go and instruct Holmes to jump.  And when he did grab onto her arms she had her legs locked into position and didn't fall.  Holmes awkwardly tried to climb up, but found it increasingly embarrassing, as there was nothing to hold onto once he got past her shoulders.  And he was too much of a gentleman to… Well I'll leave it at that. [*Grin mischievously *]

"Couldn't you try and swing yourself up?"  Lestrade growled, trying to hide her face, which was beet red from hanging upside down so long (and from realizing the handhold-foothold situation, too).  He tried to do so, but ended up grabbing her belt instead.  Luckily for both of them the belt was enough for the incredibly lean detective to scramble into the shaft.  Lestrade followed suit and soon found the Great Detective's ass in her face.  

"Please don't fart."  She muttered to herself.  Holmes pretended he hadn't heard her.  Clearing his throat crisply, he lead the way as quietly as possible through the metal duct, making sure to tap loudly when they were over the rest of the group.  When he was sure that Scooby was on their scent Sherlock continued on, Lestrade right behind him by a few inches, careful to stay just the right amount of distance away from him but still keeping up to his swift movements.  Every so often they came across a vent like the one they had removed in the janitor's closet, which showed a room filled with scientific junk, and soon even Lestrade had a mental map of the building.  She could hear Holmes mumbling to himself as well.

"First laboratory, second, right turn, empty office, left, left, another lab…" But pretty soon the crawling was become monotonous and mechanical.  Lestrade's limbs moved rhythmically and predictably, following Holmes' Inverness covered bottom.  That was until that bottom stopped with a halt and she crashed right into it.  Springing back as quickly and gracefully as she could, Lestrade babbled an apology but was shushed by Holmes, whose hand was waving frantically for quiet.  

"What is it?" Lestrade hissed between her teeth.  His reply was so low she could barely make out [*getting ideas? Jk *] the words.  Nevertheless, any stranger would've been able to hear the thrill in his voice as he whispered, "We've found her." 

***********

Shaggy held his dog's leash tightly in his hand, in case he zoned out and got separated from the gang like always, at least he'd have Scooby.  Not much help, I know, but you must remember they were best buds.  The perky pup yelped at every indication of a refreshed scent, meaning that they were still on the detectives' trail.  Velma and Fred jogged behind the two, minds still pondering who was the real culprit behind this puzzling mess that became a ficcy.  Their thoughts, however, were interrupted by Scooby's interruption: he careened to a stop just outside a closed door, waddling around in circles, whimpering sadly.

"Aw Scoob'!  You didn't lose their smell, didja?"  Shaggy whined.  His dog looked up at the master dejectedly, but Freddy solved the problem.  

"Don't be so pessimistic, you guys!  Maybe Mr. H and the Inspector stopped as well.  Or they've found Daphne!"  This last statement was more to himself than the rest of his friends, and his voice was tinted with steady hope.  

***********

[Author's note:  As always, read and review, and I'll be sure to finish up the story in the next one or two chapters… Maybe three chapters if you're lucky/unlucky.  If that's the case, I'll be sure to make it a cliffy... ;) Hey! This wasn't a cliffy!]


	7. Realization

[Author's note: !!! I completely forgot Moriarty!! *Think hard * Well I've already got this plot figured out, and none of it is Moriarty, sorry! But I promise the next one will be! I'm more of a romantic than a mystery writer... he he. And I'll be working on the sequel to THIS FICCY very soon. (Give me a break, you say? Pwahaha! Never!) And now that I've updated so fast, let's all point our fingers at nightmare and laugh! pwahaha! monty: boy was that a mistake.. She'll be coming after YOU soon! pwahaha! jr.: Well I've got an excuse! It's a bit pathetic but that's the way it is with excuses rite? Ahem: I'm watching Chinese Soap Operas. Set in the Emperor periods of China. With Shoaling kung-fu-ists, evil empresses and a dowager empress that ticks me off so bad, and of course, (you knew this was coming, right?) cute princes + rebellious princesses. Oh, and the Eunuchs. -___-;; Now that's what I call dedication. monty: please dont' go there. Please.]  
  
Sherlock Holmes, working quickly as he spoke, was able to remove the ventilation cover without difficulty. "According to my calculations, we should be right above..." The Great Detective started muttering to himself again, going over their crawling. Lestrade tried her best as well, but it made her head hurt, so instead she took the easy road; she peered into the room itself. And what she saw made her gasp.  
  
"Lou's office!"  
  
*****************  
  
After spinning around in so many circles that his head hurt, Scooby Doo sat down with a "rumph" and inspired so much sympathy in his owners that Freddie was compelled to give him a Scooby snack.  
  
"Hey Daph', don't you think now would be a good time for a Sc-" Reality hit him a second too late. Oh yea. She wasn't there. He kind of missed the fashionably obsessed girl. Velma patted his shoulder in a friendly fashion and then patted Scooby and was about to pat Shaggy too, but realized he was too tall for her so she gave up. Looking around to avoid making eye contact with Shaggy [yea, i gotta poke romance into SOMETHING], she noticed they were in a very familiar area of the building. She tugged on Fred's sleeve. He noticed it too. Only Scooby, who was illiterate, obviously, couldn't read the sign outside the big brass door they had been standing in front of just hours ago. It was the door to the office of the very man who had summoned them to the case in the first place.  
  
Shaggy was confused. "But why would Mr. Neebin even summon us here if he's the guy we're trying to find?"  
  
Fred was furious. "Because he's been playing us for dupes, that's why! Now let's go in there and save Daphne!" And before he could take in the warnings from Velma, the true brains of the group, Freddie and Shaggy had put their shoulders to the cheap machinery device locking the door, broke it, and rushed in to find the surprised eyes of Lou Neebin and the girl of Fred's dreams tied up in a chair.  
  
********************  
  
If you think Fred was furious, you should've seen Beth Lestrade. After uttering a bucket worth of the most unprintable words ever, she shoved Holmes out the vent and followed after him in a less graceful "plop". But the Academy training was sinking in at last, because she was up on one knee in a flash, ionizer and the ready, shrill voice snarling, "Inspector Lestrade New Scotland-" Beth's usual introductions were interrupted by a hard kick to her ribs. As she hit the wall hard, raising a bump on the back of her head, Lestrade's brain was in chaos mood. She had had her eyes glued on Lou Neebin, just like the handbook said. She had been ready to respond to any flicker of a muscle, any attempt to escape. Of course, Daphne had been tied in a chair, so it couldn't have been-  
  
Lestrade's eyes flew open. And then it hit her: why wasn't Lou Neebin moving at all?  
  
Both she and Sherlock Holmes noticed the trickle of blood coming from a bullet wound in the manager's chest at the same time. His once hard and cold eyes were lifelessly frozen in a look of terror and shock. Lou Neebin had been murdered.  
  
A light, sardonic applause came from the other corner of the room. "Brava, Inspector, Brava. Although I hardly think you would've been expecting to receive a hard kick in your side?" A man stepped out of the shadows, dark bangs covering his dark glasses, which in turn covered those sinister, fiery eyes. With a snap of his fingers, the lights brightened, allowing the detectives' eyes to wander into the dark corner, only to see the limp body of Timothy Squaw, and the two other scientists standing over him with guilty looks in their grim faces.  
  
On another snap from the malicious actor, Trojan and Annie, in movements to fast for the naked eye, had pinned Sherlock Holmes down and administered a sedative. His struggling was no use against the force of two, and with a cry Holmes went limp as well. Which left only Beth Lestrade to be dealt with...  
  
[Author's note: Read and Review, that's all I've got to say. I would also love suggestions on how to end this as well, please. Don't worry, all you impatient ones ;): the first chapter of the next ficcy will be up the same time the last chapter to this one is posted. So keep your pants on. monty: hehe.] 


	8. Girl, Interrupted

*[Author's note: -__-;; well when I said review I meant give me suggestions. I mean, I know you love my writing (dodges rotten tomato) and you all want me to continue as soon as possible (dodges rotten orange) and you all think I'm the best writer there is (dodges rotten watermelon) but I can't do all that if I don't get real feedback (hit in face by rotten tomato. Monty snickers), even flames that give me real suggestions will count. And it wouldn't hurt if you gave me your silly (I don't think so.) ideas. Ahem! Now! On with the motley! Monty: No, wait, you stoopid fool. You forgot to name the actor! j.r.: I know! And the readers didn't even catch the fact that in the first chapters it was Lou Nubbin, and now it's Lou Neebin. Monty: Yes, that's where you belong all right! ^_^ Nudge nudge wink wink knowwhatimean knowwhatimean? Oh yea, and to save time, No Pun Intended.]  
  
Sherlock Holmes was unconscious, maybe dead, on the floor. A teenage girl was tied helpless in a chair, eyes wide with fear. And her ionizer was in the hands of a maniacal thespian. But the odds never did stop Beth Lestrade, and she wasn't one to break old habits. Of course, in her current situation, the odds were very much against her. Time to start bluffing, she thought to herself wryly. "When New Scotland Yard hears about this-" she began with as much verisimilitude as possible, but was cut short by the traitorous-friend-of-Lou-Neebin.  
  
"Spare me the shit, Inspector. I know you and your kind, and am eager to rid the world of you. This'll be easier than I thought!" With that the man raised Lestrade's own ionizer at her, his eyes gleaming behind his bangs. But then, with a BANG the door flew open and in came Freddie, Shaggy, Scooby and Velma, ready to save the day. After they got a total shock of course.  
  
"IT WAS THE TRAITOROUS-FRIEND-OF-LOU-NEEBIN?!"  
  
Daphne had finally gotten her gag to loosen enough for her to cry out incoherently, "THUH!" Freddie decided to ignore her some more. I mean, he had tried to rescue her, and for what? (see above)  
  
The traitorous-friend-of-Lou-Neebin just stared at the intruders as if they came from another planet (in a way.), and the two scientists couldn't seem to decide whether or not to be relieved that they were going to get out of the mess they had gotten themselves into, or if they should've been falling over each other trying to escape from getting caught. Beth Lestrade took the opportunity to fling herself at Daphne's tied up figure, untie her with a New Scotland Yard Standard Issue Utility Rope Cutter, and push her toward Freddy, where she'd be safe for at least the next ten seconds.  
  
"Now, to get Ho-" Lestrade stopped short. The Great Detective had simply disappeared into thin air! Was this another of the traitorous-friend-of- Lou-Neebin's tricks? Or was there divine intervention? Or - Lestrade's thoughts were interrupted by a funny sensation on her forehead. Her own ionizer was aimed right between Lestrade's eyeballs, and at the trigger was the traitorous-friend-of-Lou-Neebin's bony finger; there was no way out of this one.  
  
"Stop right there!"  
  
"Holmes!" Lestrade and the traitorous-friend-of-Lou-Neebin ejaculated at the same time (in different tones of voice, you understand). And at his back were police officers as far as the eye could see (not very far considering the breadth of the hallway.), each and every one (one being the keyword) armed with an ionizer of his own. The reign of the traitorous- friend-of-Lou-Neebin was finally put to a stop.  
  
LATER "Ah, another criminal vanquished, and another day ended!"  
  
"Ok, Holmes, I give in; how'd you do it?"  
  
Sherlock Holmes grinned widely, showing a fine row of perfect white teeth (nice teeth for a Victorian. Seeing as they never brushed them.) "I have no idea what you mean, Inspector." God he's cute, Lestrade thought, but once again was interrupted, this time by the desperate shouts of the traitorous-friend-of-Lou-Neebin: "NO! STOP! YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, YOU NITWITS! I WAS IN IT ALL FOR THE MONEY! THIS LAB IS PRACTICALLY SITTING ON A GOLD MINE, AND IT WOULD'VE BEEN MINE (NPI) IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR THOSE MEDDLING KIDS!"  
  
Fred shook his head in disgust. "Why does everybody say that? It's like we're on a TV show or something and that's our slogan."  
  
Velma nodded, "Tell me about it! What a dumb slogan, anyway!"  
  
Lestrade opened her mouth to say something, but was. Yea, interrupted:  
  
"AND THAT STUPID F---ING DOG, TOO!"  
  
(I totally agree)  
  
[A/N: *j.r. fumes as monty adds a final sardonic MST in parenthesis* *turns to screen* May I add that the ideas of this little ninny *whack monty upside the head* are completely unattatched to me? Monty: Fool. Who dyu think gave you all the answers on that math test you took last week! *shushes naughty shadow demon* Don't forget to review! And to get your friends to review! And to get their friends to review! And to get THEIR friends to- mmf! *Gagged by monty, who continues* And to read the beginning of the next ficcy, "Ice Ice Baby", and to review. And to get your friends to.. *looks up* *sighs and shakes head*] 


	9. An Introspection Or is it Retrospection?

[Author's note: Haha: since some people didn't really understand my quick ending (hey I just wanted to move on, you know?), I'm going to add a nice little epilogue like all the REAL *sparkle, sparkle* SH endings. And I found my notes, too, and they've got a few knot-breakers. Yes, I know that didn't make sense. English isn't my best subject. Speaking of which, I'm SUPPOSED TO BE DOING my homework. *whistle innocently*]  
  
Sherlock Holmes and his newfound friends, along with Lestrade, sat in a bakery (appropriately named "Baker's Street". Yuk, Yuk, Yuk) a few hours after having captured the criminal. Sherlock seemed to be longing for his pipe like old times, along with his companion, no matter how mechanical nowadays. The gang was celebrating another successful case, and Freddy had managed to dig up some champagne (don't kid yourself; it was apple cider).  
  
"Freddy! I thought you were saving that for prom night!"  
  
Well, they managed to have drinks all around anyway. Velma, always the one to cut the crap and get to it, began the conversation. "Ok Mr. Holmes, why don't you tell us how you really did it? I've heard that a magician never gives away his secrets, but maybe you could just tell us this once?" She smiled glowingly, although this time Daphne did not join her since she was busy playing with Freddy's hair, to the leader's apparent glee. Shaggy, on the other hand, was playing with his loyal pup's fur, and also, at the same time, lending an ear to the Great Detective. Lestrade merely swirled her champ- uh, CIDER, in peace. Boy, had she heard this speech one two many times. But it was always nice to hear the old coot talk about his methods.  
  
Holmes began with a smile. Clearing his throat professionally, he spoke with an air of casualty. "I cannot begin to count the times when I have been led astray by a clue which has been given to me the wrong way. It was almost the same with the two traitorous scientists; they told me they had seen Squaw arguing with a man, and they ASSUMED it was for money. However, on further investigation with Mr. Squaw in that call I made but a moment ago, I have confirmed the way the story REALLY goes: Squaw had met the man in an answer to a phone call. There was money involved, and the offer was to steal some of the chemicals in the lab, including some biogenetic enhancers and other such advances in the world of Science today." Sherlock began to stray into one of his favorite subjects (hey, he did discover the hemoglobin), before the gang cleared their throats and hinted his continuance.  
  
"Anyhow, Squaw did not like the idea of betrayal one bit and soon got to raised voices with the man, whom he described as hunched over and owning a raspy voice." Sherlock cocked an eyebrow in Lestrade's direction, and she straightened up a little, ears fully attuned. "It seems that this mysterious, hooded figure got to the other two scientists instead. However, I might add, the call merely confirmed my previous suspicions." He stopped to take a sip of champagne (cider!), and everybody rushed in at once to fill his glass, which produced a patch of light in his eyes.  
  
When they had finished, he went on, "Now then, the criminal-"  
  
He was interrupted by a snort from Lestrade, who luckily was not drinking her cider when she did it, and who choked out, "Reminded me of Greyson's first time in an elastomask. Besides, Moriarty didn't need to get an actor; he could've just used Fenwick." She grinned at the rest of the gang, waiting for some giggling. But the only things she received were some confused looks from the Americans who knew nothing about Moriarty's European crimes. Grumbling something under her breath, she slouched down again, refilling her own cider.  
  
Pretending nothing had happened; Freddy asked, "So what did the traitorous- friend-of-Lou-Neebin mean when he said the place was sitting on a gold mine?"  
  
"I suppose it means that their advances in science were getting on to something; I really didn't look into that part."  
  
It was Daphne's turn to ask a question, although it was in a genuinely curious voice, not a coquettish one. "I saw that hypodermic needle enter your skin with my own eyes; how'd you get out of that one?"  
  
Blue eyes glistened keenly, but his lips remained sealed, "I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more than that I have scientific advances of my own, it seems. I myself have no idea why the sedative did not work, so I cannot tell you. My only wish is that the needle was sanitary and did not contain any HIV diseases on it. Who knows how that might affect my-" Realization entered Holmes' brain, causing his cheeks to flush and (God I love embarrassing him like that.) his voice to go on in a nervous voice. "My. social abilities." Lestrade choked on her cider.  
  
Holmes slumped into his chair, mood as foggy as an Old London pea soup. The case hadn't pleased him, and had not even begun to challenge his intellectual mind. And not a hint of his nemesis appeared in it. They were losing Moriarty's trail. With a growl and a hiss he muttered, "Let me end by saying it was one of my easiest cases, and that I wave it off as the equivalent appeal of a Sunday afternoon cartoon show."  
  
Shaggy straightened up. "Hey, I resent that." Scooby took his cue and howled joyfully, "Ruby, ruby Roo!"  
  
[A/N: Yes, I did happen to come up with that Baker's Street thing myself. *patches up hurt pride* Hehe; it happened when I passed a bakery called "Baker's Court" and my Sherlockian madness just kicked right in. :D Please help in the fight against AIDS. You can help by donating money by visiting any AIDS websites you can find on GOOGLE. FF.NET won't let me post links. GROWL.] 


	10. list for stoopidsannoying tag at the end...

[Author's note: ok guys: this note is going on the end of all my ficcys in the SH22 series; some people are a bit thick (hehe. hey me too, k?) and keep waiting and waiting for me to continue one of my ficcys like "Bedbugs and Broomsticks" or something and just don't seem to get that there's a *lights flash* ****sequel*** to the thing. So yea: here's a list of my ficcys, all of which are posted! So read and review cuz, like Eric Idle, who I just saw yesterday *fuck yea!!!!*, *to quote the souvenir mugs*: I am a greedy bastard *other side* so fuck off. Hehe. Just review my ficcys and we'll call it square, ok? ^^^]  
  
Me ficcys: (doode, this list is in my settings. *wink wink nudge nudge say nmore say nmore*) 1. Bedbugs and Broomsticks 2. (scratch head) Is it drunken vampires? I forget. 3. Ruby Roo Reats Rare Rock Roams 4. Ice Ice Baby  
  
SO yea: review! Ps sorry to ppl if they got excited. I'm sorry! You can cut off my right arm! *holds out fake arm* *sob hysterically* I repent! I repent! :D 


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